Loving scorn and compassionate sarcasm from the creator of Belacqua Jones.

Thursday, December 17, 2009

'Tis the Season of Hallmarkian Joy

Christmas is problematic for our oligarchs. Talk of peace and love fill the air, and there is always the possibility that things will get out of hand and the public will begin to take it seriously. However, season does give our Beltway minions a chance to spend at least one day wallowing in decency before reverting back to the serene barbarity that is the wellspring of all progress and civilization.

Not to worry. The religious right will make sure this never happens. They worship the parochial god of the tribe and not the God of universal love. Universal love is doomed to failure because too many people associate it with a euphoric skipping through La-La Land with a beatific smile on their faces. They are unwilling to face the harsh reality that Christian Love requires a descent into the deepest pit of Hell and a willingness to love every low-life son of a bitch one finds there, even though one’s knee-jerk reaction is to tear their fucking throats out. This unwillingness to do so is what transforms Christian Love into the spittle spray of Christian bile.

The religious right also guarantees that its followers are kept away from Jesus. Nothing would ruin their faith faster than a public that actually bought into his teachings. Instead, their leaders encourage them to practice Christianism rather than Christianity. Christianism is simply Christianity without Jesus. Under Christianism’s guidance, a dynamic faith is reduced to a fossilized ideology.

Christianism’s irony is its obsessive propagation of the Ten Commandments and its determination to see them displayed in public building. They don’t seem to understand that the Commandments are downright anticorporatist. They tell us don’t kill, don’t steal, don’t lie and don’t exploit. How in the hell do you run a multinationals with an albatross like that around your neck?

Christianism could be described as “a mass-based party of committed nationalist militants, working in uneasy but effective collaboration with traditional elites, [that] abandons democratic liberties and pursues redemptive violence...without ethical or legal restraints [and pursues a policy] of internal cleansing and external expansion.”

That is part of Robert O. Paxton’s definition of fascism sung to the tune of “Onward Christian Soldiers.”

I don’t what our oligarchs are worried about, though. You don’t see many crèches among the brilliantly flashing lights of Christmas lawn displays. I think we’ve kind of forgotten what the season is all about.

I must again quibble. If "Christianism" were strictly practiced as Buddhism, Platoism, Taoism or skepticism, it would be OK, but the movement loosely called (and carefully orchestrated) as "Christianity" is the cuplrit. That disease -ridden ideology brought us Christmas, which we got from the early Roman (catholic) church as a way to appease the pagans (saturnalia, the solstice) and the Jews ( Hannukuh)as a way to start raising money in the name of Jesus and pretend we actualy love one another and want 'world peace". The transformation from hannukuh bush to decorated connifer, and the invention of the north pole and a bunch of toy-making little people did't help.

By this time in human history we have jesusology (and at this time of year, Baby jesusology), mixed in with virgin mommies, hapless Josephs, camel dung, wandering stars, errant good will, Macy's, Wal_Mart, HD-TV,jingle bells, fake snow, reindeer, too much alcohol, papier mache' creche scenes, the Starvation Army taking credit cards; food and fruit baskets, temporary generosity, Bing Crosby, Charlie Brown and commercially produced egg nog from caged chickens. And we crack nuts and sing the Messiah out of season.

Where is your yuletide spirit, anyway? You should leave bah-humbugging to us progessionals.

About Me

Case Wagenvoord's articles have been posted at "The Smirking Chimp", "Countercurrents" and "Dissident Voice". When he's not writing or brooding, he is carving hardwood bowls that have been displayed in galleries and shows across the country. He lives in New Jersey with his wife and two cats.
His book, "Open Letters to George W. Bush" is available at Amazon.com.